


Dear Husband

by Aprilhw3



Series: Dear Soldier [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: 100 Percent Pure Fluff, F/M, Military Wedding, Zero added angst, beach wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25315819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aprilhw3/pseuds/Aprilhw3
Summary: Mr. & Mrs. Eddard and Catelyn Starkrequest the honor of your presenceat the marriage of their daughterSansa StarktoSandor Cleganethe Sixteenth day of JulyHalf past five in the eveningat The Stark beach houseCrackclaw Point BeachCocktails, Dinner and Dancing to follow
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Series: Dear Soldier [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1833649
Comments: 27
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the kids are still very much in love and they’re ready to take the next step forward...marriage. If you’re not in the mood for ridiculously out of character fluff, turn around and go back the way you came. 😉
> 
> Three short chapters.

Dark clouds rolled ominously in the sky above her. Please don’t rain.

Sansa rubbed her arms, hoping to chase away the chill. It didn’t work. She shook the sand off the hem of her nightgown and eyed the weather encroaching on her wedding day. The sun peeked momentarily from behind the clouds, briefly spreading a glittering cache of diamonds across the water. 

She had dreamed of this day her whole life. She wanted it to be perfect.

Just then the wind picked up, making her flaming curls fly askew and the white tulle tied to the backs of the folding chairs dance. The simple decorations of flowers and fabric felt right for getting married in the Gods’ biggest cathedral. She reminded herself that it was still early morning. There was plenty of time for the weather to clear.

In just a few hours, she’d be marrying her best friend.

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━  
  


“Do you remember, when you were just a little girl, how you would gather the whole family in the godswood and have your father marry you to Spider-Man? You had such a crush on Tom Holland.” Her mother said as she brushed her hair.

“Which time? I must have married him 50 times.” They both laughed while Cat tucked flowers into her daughter’s hair.

“You always dreamed that you’d marry the most handsome man in Westeros.” Cat put her hands on her daughter’s shoulders and met her eyes in the vanity mirror.

“I can’t believe that dream is about to come true. IF he gets here in time.” She wouldn’t admit it, but she was getting a little nervous that he wouldn’t make it on time. Sandor had texted an hour ago to let her know that he and Bronn were caught up in mid-summer tourist traffic between Maidenpool and Crackclaw Point Beach. 

“You know that man will be here if he has to move heaven and earth.” She continued fussing with Sansa’s hair. “You’ll take his breath away, you know. You’re absolutely radiant, as I knew you would be.”

Sansa swallowed the knot of emotion. “Thank you, mom.” 

“Your father and I have hoped and prayed for many years that you would find someone brave and gentle and strong. Someone worthy of you. We couldn’t be happier with the one you found. He’s a good man, Sansa. We’re so proud to welcome him as our son.”

Pulling the lace handkerchief out that she’d tucked into her cleavage, Sansa dabbed her eyes and nose. Please, Gods, don’t let me bawl. I’ll never stop…

Rickon came storming into the room, all gangly limbs and fourteen years’ worth of awkwardness, dressed in a tux and sneakers. “They’re coming!” he shouted. “You should have seen them...sirens blaring...flying down the road! It was insane. Do you think they’d take me out for a ride later?”

Cat gave him a placating smile and brushed a strand of his wild hair behind his ear.

“We’ll talk to Sandor about it later, okay? Please, go tell your father to come in. We have to take our places.”

“Okay,” he said, ducking out of her reach.

“It’s time, sweetling. I’m so happy for you.” said Cat, as she bent down to kiss her cheek. “I’m going to take my seat. I’ll send your father in.” 

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

Sansa rose to her feet when she heard her father enter the room. She took one last look at herself in the mirror. She smoothed her hands down her hips. The white gown hugged her curves, then fell into a frothy pile of lace and tulle around her feet. She looked down at her hands—the diamond solitaire now on her right ring finger in preparation for the wedding band to come on her left hand. She turned to her father.

“You look beautiful,” Ned said gruffly. “So beautiful.”

“Thanks, Daddy.”

Her father clasped the sheer bridal cloak around her neck, adjusting it carefully. Then he picked up the bouquet of seashells and handed it to Sansa.

“He’s one lucky man, you know that?” her father asked with a teary smile. “I don’t care how big he is, if he ever hurts you—”

”Sandor would never hurt me, Daddy,” Sansa said as her father tenderly kissed her forehead.

Sandor was out there, waiting for her, and while Sansa was a bundle of nerves right now, seeing him would make it better. She’d never imagined that she’d marry a soldier, a cop, but here she was, becoming the wife of one of Riverlands finest. It just so happened he was also the only man she’d loved so much that letting him go wasn’t even an option.

Her father stepped back to let Sansa pass out the door and into the empty foyer, then took his place beside her. She took a deep, tremulous breath. Beyond the doors, the music swelled.

“That’s our cue,” he said. “You ready?”

It wouldn’t have mattered what she said, because the doors swung open and all the guests rose to their feet at once. Sansa slipped her hand into the crook of her father’s arm and he put a strong hand over her fingers.

“Let’s go make this legal,” he murmured, and Sansa couldn’t help but smile back.

Everyone important to them was here...their friends and family, the marine family, the police family, the people who would dance the electric slide (poorly), drink with them (heavily), eat with them (to bursting), celebrate with them (wholeheartedly). 

Sitting in the front row, her mother was already dabbing away tears with a tissue, and when she caught Sansa’s eye, she pressed one hand against her chest in a gesture of love. Above the sea of happy faces, there was Sandor, whose dark gaze locked on Sansa. He wore his dress blues, his hat perfectly straight and his white gloved hands clasped in front of him.

Fuck, Sandor mouthed, and Sansa stifled a teary giggle.

Then the musicians began the processional, and with a deep breath, Sansa stepped forward, her father at her side, into the rest of her life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sandor is a bundle of nerves on this big day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marriage rites, vows and ceremonies evolve over the ages, and I wanted this to reflect in their wedding. I think the exchange of cloaks is a lovely idea, so I kept that, as well as some of the wording.

Sandor had never driven so fast in his life. And his groomsmen weren’t far behind. He’d had to call in a favor with the Crownlands regional troopers for a police escort to get them through the traffic jam. They knew how to muster quickly when the occasion called for it. 

He was pretty sure his wife-to-be would have something to say about his dramatic, on-time-by-the-skin-of-his-teeth, entrance. He grinned at the thought of his pretty little bird and her ruffled feathers as he stood looking out over the people gathered here for his wedding.

“How are you doing?” asked Bronn as he rubbed his shoe on the back of his pant leg. The speck of dirt that had been there disappeared. Those shoes were shiny enough to signal aircraft.

“Never been better.” Sandor grimaced, letting air out slowly and breathing in the same way. He was prepared for this…that nerves might sock him in the gut at the last minute. None of it was going to change anything. Building a life with Sansa was right. He couldn’t wait another day to get this mission under way. “How’s my uniform?”

“You look like a train wreck, Mr. Never Been Better,” commented Thoros with a cheesy grin. He turned away and slapped Brienne on the back, nearly bowling her over, earning him a threatening scowl from the big woman. “Fuck, I wish I had a chance to meet Sansa first. She’s a hottie. You’re a lucky dog, Clegane.”

“Bet your wife would disagree, Thoros,” said Brienne, glancing at a willowy brunette who sent a questioning glance Thoros’s way. Her eyebrows were almost to her hairline, and she didn’t look pleased.

“Shit! What kind of radar does she have that she can always catch me in the middle of my shit?” Thoros waved at his wife, who responded with a smile, lowering her eyebrows and going back to her conversation with the woman next to her.

“Hells, I can’t believe I put on tighty-whities for you,” said Bronn.

“Appreciated,” grunted Sandor.

The guys continued to peck at each other as if it were just another day in the field. Nerves nibbled at Sandor’s ability to be calm. Some guys hadn’t been so lucky at marriage, but he knew in his soul that Sansa was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. He paced his breathing again, using slow inhalations and exhalations. 

Beric noticed. “Listen, Clegane, Sansa’s a keeper. I know you’ll have better luck than I did. So chill out.”

Sandor bounced on the balls of his feet. His stomach had been doing flips, trying to unknot, ever since he woke up that morning. Getting stuck in traffic hadn’t done him any favors, either.

To distract himself, his eyes searched the beach. That spot, over there in the dunes, that’s where he found Sansa when he came to talk to her on Warrior’s Day. It was fitting he had resolved things with Sansa in this place, and now they were joining their lives on this beautiful beach. 

“The girls did a decent job decorating,” commented Bronn. “It’s been a good distraction for Margie.”

“How’s she doing? She looks ready to fucking pop. You sure it’s not triplets?” Sandor shook his arms out as if they were covered in red ants. In truth, adrenaline was coursing through his body. The way things were looking, he might be running on that energy all day.

“Just one, asshole,” added Bronn. “and don’t let her hear you say anything about the size of her belly. I don’t give a fuck how big you are, I’d put my money on her kicking your ass right now. She’s a feisty little mama bear. Wait til it’s your turn. Your wife will fucking terrify you when she’s full of raging pregnancy hormones.”

Sandor snorted. His little Sansa was too sweet and gentle to ever terrify anyone...hormones or not. 

Godsdammit! He was eager to get this wedding under way. He couldn't help but list all the reasons Sansa shouldn't want to marry him. He was ugly, stubborn, temperamental...no family, few friends. His life hadn’t been an easy one. 

Catelyn found Sandor pacing nervously and laid a gentle hand on his arm. “We’re almost ready to start, Sandor,” she told him as she reached up and straightened his hat and smoothed the front of his groom’s cloak. “Welcome to the family, son.” 

Sandor swallowed the lump of emotion threatening to close his throat. “ Thank you, Mrs…” he started, but quickly amended it with one haughty raised brow from Catelyn, “Thank you, mom.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then placed her hand in the crook of his arm and led her to her seat. “Let’s get this started.”

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

It was time. Sandor and his groomsmen, Bronn, Thoros, Beric, Brienne, Pod and Trystane, took their places. 

Music sounded. The notes grew louder than the seagulls and became a melodic song blending with the beat of the waves behind them.

Looking in the direction of the front doors of the beach house, he momentarily stopped breathing. There she was.

Sansa. She was a vision in white.

Everyone stood and quieted. The sun peeked through the clouds at just that moment, making gold light dance in her red hair like it was aflame. She fucking glowed. Beneath the sheer bridal cloak, her wedding dress hugged her body.

“Breathe,” whispered Bronn.

Sandor let out a whoosh of air he hadn’t realized he was holding. When her blue eyes met his, his knees shook and almost buckled. Gods, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Please don’t let me fuck this up!

She was holding a bouquet of seashells, and her movements were poetic and graceful as she and Ned walked in time to the crashing waves.

Mine. It was the one word that chased through his mind.

The wind kicked up, sending the cloak floating around her ethereally. Her every curve discernible. He swallowed hard.

He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Fuck.

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

Ned escorted Sansa to her spot next to Sandor. Taking her hand in his, Sandor nodded at Ned and then kissed Sansa’s fingertips. He squeezed her hand tight, as if afraid that the wind could take her away at any moment.

Sansa handed her bouquet to Margaery. Sansa squeezed Sandor’s fingers, and his eyes went immediately back to her.

Together, they stepped forward and faced Chaplain Ray.

Small grains of sand pelted them, and he wrapped his arm around her, sheltering her from the wind.

The chaplain cleared his throat, “Sandor Clegane, you may now cloak the bride and bring her under your protection.”

Sandor turned to his bride and fumbled with the delicate clasp of her bridal cloak with trembling fingers. “Seven Hells, I’m a highly trained sniper. My hands don’t shake,” he mumbled low enough that only she could hear. She smiled up at him as he finally unhooked it, then handed it to her father. He swept his groom’s cloak from his shoulders and gently draped it over hers.

Hand in hand, they turned back to Chaplain Ray, who raised his voice to the audience, “Please be seated.” In a softer tone, he began the ceremony. “We stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. The sacrament of marriage is a solemn and joyful occasion, not to be entered into lightly. Rather, marriage is the happy pronouncement of what the Gods have brought together. Let it be known that Sandor Clegane and Sansa Stark are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Now and forever. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder.”

“Do you, Sandor, take Sansa to be your wife, to have and to hold in triumph and in trial, to love and to cherish from this day until the end of your days?” The words held in the air like a mythical pronouncement. 

“I do,” said Sandor, gently squeezing Sansa’s delicate hands as they rested in his own. He took the ring from Bronn with trembling hands and, after a couple shaky misses, slid the simple gold band onto her finger. Emotion welled up inside of him. This was his wife, the one person on the face of this fucking planet he was intentionally taking on as his partner in life, his best friend, and his one and only lover. Commitment and fidelity was a do-or-die proposition, and he did not take these vows lightly.

“Do you, Sansa, take Sandor to be your husband, to have and to hold in triumph and in trial, to love and to cherish from this day until the end of your days?” The Chaplain looked to Sansa as he waited for her answer.

Sansa’s hand shook. She dropped the ring in the sand before she could get it on Sandor’s finger. Bending down at the same time, they bumped heads.

Gods, I hope I didn’t just dent her skull, he thought to himself.

“Let me,” he said, righting her and then digging around in the sand. His fingers finally connected with it. He handed it to her and stood.

She smiled at him and then slid the matching band onto Sandor’s finger. “I do,” said Sansa, smiling up into his eyes.

“I love you.” Those words, said with such strength and conviction, stirred something primal in him. He’d gladly give his life for her.

“I love you, too,” he said back, cupping his hands protectively around both of hers. Unfortunately, those thick strands of red hair whipped against his face and he had to lean in—touching his forehead to hers—to avoid the attack.

The chaplain lifted his hand. “Let us pray. Gods, please bless this marriage and protect Sandor and Sansa as they live their lives together. Let them have patience, understanding, and the ability to communicate through all their experiences.” He nodded at Sandor. 

“With this kiss, I pledge my love.” Sandor brought his lips to hers. His heart beat a cadence so fast, his brain could barely stand the pace. As his lips met hers, a pulse of electric heat ripped through him. What had started out as a chaste kiss suddenly felt much more intimate.

“Cool it, man. You’ve got onlookers,” Bronn whispered to him, and when he didn’t immediately disengage, he felt a hand signal against his back.

Yeah. Yeah. I get it. Reluctantly, he pulled back from his bride. Sansa’s eyes were soft and happy and a bit dazed.

The chaplain shouted as the wind picked up. “I’d like to introduce Sandor Clegane and his wife, Sansa Clegane. Congratulations!”

“Oo-RAH!” yelled his brethren from next to him. A chorus of congratulations rang out from the audience, as well as applause.

Arm in arm, he walked her down the aisle. He wanted to escape to their hotel room right then and forget the world for weeks on end. Unfortunately, there were duties to attend to. This first one was something he’d been looking forward to since she’d accepted his proposal.

“Sandor?” she asked him tentatively as he stopped and waited at the very last chair.

The audience quieted. He continued to wait, looking down at her with a grin.

Sansa’s words were a breathless whisper. “Sandor, everyone is staring. Let’s go.”

“Not until we finish the tradition, little bird.” The sword ceremony was reserved for officers, both commissioned and non-commissioned, and he intended to give her a day she’d never forget.

She was adorable when she was miffed. She began fidgeting, but he held tight.

His groomsmen quickly assembled into a double line with raised swords for them to cross under. A few of them had looks of mischief on their faces, and Sandor knew why. One of them would swat his new bride on the ass with the flat of his sword. He hoped Mrs. Clegane wasn’t going to freak out. Maybe he should have prepared her…

”Shall we, my lady?” 

“Onward,” she sighed, stepping up to the swordsmen.

They walked slowly beneath the arch of swords, then stopped as the final two swords crossed before them. She looked up at him questioningly, and he turned to her and with a roguish grin, dipped her and kissed her breathless, to the cheers and whistles of the audience. The swords moved out of the way and they passed through. 

Bronn, the last swordsman swatted her soundly on the tush. She squealed, to the crowd’s delight, and turned to glare at the man, rubbing her backside while Sandor chuckled.

“For luck,” Bronn said with a wink and a grin.

━━━━༺❀༻━━━━

He tossed Sansa over his shoulder and hustled them past the waiting crowds with the cheers, laughter, and applause. He got them over the sand at hyperspeed, then raced up the stairs. He didn’t stop until they were inside the guest room above the garage.

“Sandor,” Sansa squealed as he laid her down on the bed. “We can’t skip our own reception!”

“Don’t worry, your mother told me they need a half hour to get the reception area ready.”

“I’m going to make you squeal with delight before we make our entrance!” He flipped the silk wedding dress over his wife’s head and trailed his fingers along the inside of her leg.

“Stop! Everyone will know what we’re doing up here,” she protested, pushing the fabric off of her face.

“What...that I take my husbandly duties very seriously?.” He looked into her big blue eyes and grinned. “Trust me, Mrs. Clegane. I would never hurt you and never embarrass you.”

His fingers connected with the undergarments. “Sandor,” she sighed, sinking into the pillows and pulling her dress back up over her face with a soft giggle.

He tugged the tiny scrap of fabric gently out of the way and then gave her his full attention. His lips rained kisses, caressing the tender flesh until she was pushing into him, and then his tongue dove into the depths of her, making her squirm and pant.

Hands tugged at his hair, trying to bring him closer. He wouldn’t be rushed.

His lips wrapped around the delicate bud of her clitoris, and with his tongue he lazily lapped at it until she exploded. 

Before he lost control, he looked up at her, looking at her face. He’d watch that face age, he’d watch lines of good humor etch themselves into her skin. Lines fan out from those beautiful eyes. But he knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she would always be beautiful to him. 

He rose to his knees and took a moment to look at her. Her legs were still parted, a sign of welcome. He felt that welcome in every cell of her body. She opened everything to him. When her arms came up, beckoning him to come to her, he smiled and slid his body over hers, slid into her body, saw her close her eyes and smile. 

Her body was his. 

When he didn’t move, just stayed inside the warm clasp of her sex, she opened her eyes. “Sandor?” 

He nodded, but made no move to start making love. Sansa’s smile faded as she saw his serious expression. “Is something wrong?” 

He picked up her hand, then held it to the scarred side of his face. He looked down at her lovely face. “Little bird, what did I ever do in my miserable life to deserve you?” He swallowed her answer with a passionate kiss, then made sweet, slow love to her.

When his own body could take no more, he shifted away from her, reached up, and pulled the hem of her dress down, smoothing her curls and smiling into her flushed face. This was his bride, and she was the most beautiful woman on the face of the planet, and now they officially belonged to each other.


End file.
